All is One
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: After stepping through the gates, Edward wakes to find that he vanquished the so-called "Dark Lord" as an infant, losing an arm and a leg for it. He insists that his powers are alchemy, not magic. And he ends up accidentally altering Harry Potter's life. For better or for worse.
1. Pig and Glass

_Harry Potter and FMA are not mine. _

_I accidentally deleted the other story, titled "The Philosopher's Stone". Now I think that is for the better. I have revised and edited to story. So this is the superior version. Hopefully._

* * *

There were many things wrong with Edward Elric's current situation. Number one being: there was a spider hanging right over his head. It balanced precariously on its silk string, its tiny black legs rubbing together. And, number two: he was in a very small cupboard. His bed was cramped into the tiny space, surrounded by a few tattered books and belongings.

This was going to be a very, very long day.

Edward sat up slowly, rubbing his forehead with his one arm.. His one… He looked down at his arms, or rather, his only arm. The other simply wasn't there. A light bandage covered his shoulder, bound tightly and hiding the fact that he was essentially armless. He felt naked without his automail. Something obviously had gone wrong. He shoved the covers off his bad and found that, instead of two legs, he had one real leg and one rudimentary prosthetic stick for another. At least he could walk, he thought, trying not to launch into a fit. He had to take things one step at a time.

He swung his legs over the bed, hearing loud tapping applied to his thin cardboard door. Edward glowered at the door.

"What the hel—" he began to say, but was overrun by a high-pitched female voice.

"Up! Get up now!"

Edward froze. What kind of horrible creature could produce such a sound? A name drifted to his mind. _Aunt Petunia. _Ah, a pretentious name to match a pretentious-sounding woman. Edward stood and pushed open the door with his good hand. Having only woken up several moments before, his mind was still groggy and could not fathom everything at once. It hadn't yet occurred to him even why this lady spoke with a strange accent.

Thankfully, he heard her steps retreat down what he assumed was a hallway. Having not ever seen the house before. He had a distinct feeling that he was trapped in a small, metal box. Regardless, it must be morning. Edward stood and stretched in the cramped space. Or, rather, a space that would be cramped to a normal-sized person.

Did he really just think that?

Edward was prepared to slam his forehead into the door just then, when Aunt Petunia returned with a new, fearsome wave of knocking.

"Are you up yet?"

"Yes I am." Edward called back, unsure how to act.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. He was greeted by a tart face with flushed cheeks. "Today is Dudley's birthday and it will be perfect. Go watch the bacon and don't you dare let it burn." She chastised him harshly. Edward wordlessly went to the kitchen. He may as well conform to the rules of this world, for now. He went to the pan and watched as it simmer. Bubbles of grease popped next to the strips of meat.

Who was Dudley? What a horrible name. Edward nudged the bacon, working on pure instinct.

A large man that resembled an inflated plum entered the kitchen, shooting Edward a foul look. Another name fell into his head: _Uncle Vernon. _Edward wanted to smile, but he already didn't like this man. The man, still scowling, commanded him gruffly. "Cut your hair. It's too long for a boy."

Edward tried to look at his reflection in the window, noticing that his hair was still as long and as golden as it ever was, tied back in a braid. At least he didn't look any different. It was still his body. He breathed an inward sigh of relief.

The last thing he remembered was It. He remembered the towering, dark gates too horrible to imagine. And now he was getting the feeling that he was quite a bit younger now than when he had walked through those gates. Where was his brother? Where was Winry? Edward nearly let the bacon burn as a wave of fear and sorrow crashed over him. He went quickly to the plate and slid the bacon on to Dudley's plate. The boy named so walked towards the chair. Or, rather, shuffled like a very fat, soft, pink rock that had somehow gained stubby legs.

Edward knew better than to laugh. He ended up pretending that he had choked on air. Dudley gave him a funny look, but that was all he thought Edward was worthy of before going to his meal.

After completing breakfast, Edward sat down. He started eating. He tried his very best to ignore the soon-to-be temper tantrum over a deficiency of two birthday present. But his efforts were futile. Edward was getting _mad._ His temper was barely controlled. Sure he had one arm and a one and a third legs. Sure he probably couldn't use any alchemy in this world. And maybe Dudley could crush him by simply sitting on him. That didn't give that pig any right to complain over getting presents. Why, if he had experienced even _half _of what Edward had gone through, if he even _knew _what sorrow was. If he knew what it was like to lose his _arm and leg. _The boy was going to grow up to be a scum of earth. He would be a slimy con man, just like his father. Edward's blood boiled. He wanted to throttle that little piece of—

"Bed news, Vernon." Petunia said, holding the phone up to her ear. She looked as if someone had announced the end of the world.

Edward turned to her, holding the fork in one hand and chewing quickly. Was he going to get kicked out? Frankly, a rat-infested street seemed better than this environment. And he had hardly been here for an hour.

"Mrs. Figg's broken her leg." Her eyes darted towards Edward. Was it his fault? Whose place did he take, anyway? Edward had a feeling he was being a replacement. What poor, poor soul had to go through this. And now he had to live Edward's life. What a ride. "She can't take care of him." She nodded at Edward.

Edward's cheeks turned dark red.

"I have ears you know." He muttered.

Vernon shot him a look that silenced him instantly, but fueled his rage further.

He and Petunia debated where Edward should go. Edward had a feeling they considered him no more than a lousy piece of furniture. As they talked, growing anxious, and speaking of brand new cars and reputations to protect, Dudley's face contorted into a look of sheer horror.

"But he's disabled! He doesn't even have two legs! He CAN'T come with us!" Dudley whined, pretending to cry. He contorted his features painfully, wailing.

"No, no, popkins, of course he won't come with us." Petunia reassured.

Edward watched the exchange. It would be funny if it wasn't happening to him. He felt smaller than usual.

"Probably can't see the displays at the zoo anyway." Vernon muttered gruffly.

Before they could reach a conclusion and before Edward could have suggested staying home (it would give him time to think and hopefully find a way back home), the doorbell rang. Petunia's face fell. Dudley stopped crying. His friend had arrived. The party started and Edward was reluctantly dragged along.

Vernon muttered something or other about a free pass for the legless.

Edward crossed his arms. Or he tried to, at the very least. All he managed was a one-armed hug around his body. He stopped doing that on the account that it looked just plain silly. Edward was squished in the brand new car between rat-face and Dudley. Maybe they were chimeras, Edward thought, humans mixed with a pig and rodent. It gave him something to think about while this universe's time flow moved on.

For an alternate reality, it had a way of making him very, _very_ mad. Just a moment before he had crawled into the car, which was far fancier than any car he had seen in his entire life, Vernon had gruffly pulled him by the scruff and began scolding him.

"No funny business," he ordered. His face crimsoned. "If you even _dare _try something funny—"

"I will be severely punished?" Edward asked. Nothing this man could do scared him. Nothing anyone could do in this world could scare him. He only thought this because he knew so very little about the world he was about to enter.

Vernon yelled at him some more for that jab and foisted him into the car.

Now, as they road to the zoo, Edward finally had time to think. Vernon was complaining, which he had a feeling was a habitual action. Piers and Dudley were mocking whatever suited their fancy. Petunia listened on complacently.

Edward shifted his uncomfortable prosthetic leg, trying to get it out of Dudley's wave. He wasn't particular to having it crushed yet. Until he could find a better prosthetic he wanted to keep this one in working order.

At the zoo, Edward was treated to ice cream simply because the kind woman there had offered one. Vernon and Petunia had hastily bought the cheapest kind and Edward was dragged along.

_This was a very good day._

The thought fell into his head. He felt a spike of pity for whoever lived in this realm.

They walked around the zoo. Edward began to wish he could fight on a scrawny stilt. Or that he had something resembling another arm to at least make an attempt at alchemy. But, for now, he had only his thoughts and a steadily melting bar of ice-cream. For now, he decided to organize the most recent events into something comprehensible. He couldn't exactly get a formula as he was used to, but this should suffice.

In order to get his brother's body back, he had gone through the gates and he had ended up here. Now he was in a country called "Britain" and he was living with an aunt and uncle who treated him like garbage. Or rather, who he was now replacing. Or acting as. Or being. It made less and less sense as he went on. Why would he replace someone? Shouldn't he have ended up as a new person? Or someone who he was in this world?

And on top of that, why in the world was he younger? What laws did this world run on? Sadly, there was no one to ask. At least, not yet.

They had lunch, Dudley complained some more, Edward considered thirty-one ways on how to ram him into a wall, and then they went to the reptile house.

Nothing interesting happened there.

Well, that is, save for the case of the vanishing glass.

Dudley and Piers had located a new target. They honed in on the sleeping snake, begging it to move or wrap around something's neck. They were annoying it, that much was obvious. And that was all Edward could handle. He marched up to the boys, as best as he could without stumbling over the false leg. He placed his hand on the glass.

"Would you just _SHUT UP_?" He shouted. Then he resorted to a deadly calm. "This is a living being, just like you and me. It deserves some peace and quiet, don't you think?"

Dudley and Piers only laughed at him.

Edward grew infuriated. The glass began to shimmer under his palm. He didn't notice.

Dudley pointed a stubby finger. "Mum! Dad! Look at him, he's trying to look grown-up."

Piers was shaking with laughter.

The light grew more intense.

Edward's expression stiffened.

"I am defending this poor snake. It's helpless from brutes like you."

_Shou Tucker…_

Edward's throat became dry at the thought. He held his ground. He had to stop Dudley from becoming another abuser. He doubted he could make a chimera. But he could hurt the world and it's balance in other ways.

_Nina…_

"No, look at what's he doing to the glass!" Piers shouted, pointing.

_No, daddy…_

"What glass?" Dudley said, suddenly becoming pale.

Edward stopped, his rage stopping short. He looked at the exhibit. The glass was gone. The snake crept out of the cage, slithering away and hissing. Dudley and Piers avoided it like it may suddenly become pugnacious and bite them.

Vernon grabbed Edward and pulled him away. Shrieks filled the reptile house. Petunia followed shortly. And Edward had a feeling that getting along in this world was going to be difficult.


	2. Catching the Vermin

_Thank you so much for the reviews so far! Hopefully this story will be good enough to warrant into double or triple digits... That being said, I have read what you've written. Your questions will be answered soon, have no fear. Yes, some events and quotes are directly from the book. I use it as a reference. I don't own those, either. Soon this story will diverge far from the original book.__  
_

* * *

_Roy Mustang looked up from his desk, his self-satisfied grin falling grim. He looked at the young man before him. He was coupled with a heavy suit of armor. Green, level eyes looked back beneath a shock of black hair. _

_"I'm here to take the Test." The boy said, hoping his vagueness would imply his determination._

_Mustang had the temptation to shoo the boy away. But, there was something in the spectacled eyes, something haunted, deathly that caused him to consider. _

_"An alchemist at your age? You hardly look older than eleven or twelve." A State Alchemist to Mustang's right said._

_The heavy suit of armor shook its head. "My brother's really talented. We've studied Alchemy for a long time."_

_The boy, meanwhile, screamed internally. This was what he had to do: but he had no recollection of what instigated his actions._

* * *

Edward lay on his back, staring at the slanted ceiling that squeezed him into the small space. He kept his hand on his stomach, his prosthetic limb unmatched and sitting against the wall, and his mind racing. Now that he had gotten in what seemed to be trouble—he didn't realize guardians were so cruel—and was marinating in his own unfiltered rage, he had time to think.

The first few days of "crossing-over" Edward had suffered a form of jet lag. He was putting the pieces together, albeit slowly. Now his mind could process the information that was presented to him.

And from what he'd seen, he was getting very mad. The man and woman were unjust. They had created an imbalance that would make any alchemist's heart throb with grief. They had doted on the fat boy and had ignored Edward, for the most part. When Edward was allowed a meal after his first punishment, they made as though he didn't exist.

"You should at least yell at me or something." Edward challenged.

If only he had his other arm. Or maybe a few books of his. Then he could do something worthwhile in the cupboard. Instead of thinking he could be studying. Or he could be testing the physics of this world.

Not that he couldn't do that now…

Edward sat up and took a marble from one of the small shelves lining what he assumed was his "room". He had no trouble moving about. Thankfully his muscle mass remained the same. It made for an easy escape from Dudley's low, heavy blows. The boy didn't know how to fight, not properly. Brute strength never made up for skill.

The marble in his good hand, Edward watched it. If the world worked like his then it should fall without a problem. He dropped it. It plummeted to the floor and clicked. Edward swooped it up again. Well, that was a bad test, wasn't it?

Edward rolled the dusty green sphere between his fingers. Alchemy worked. The thought fell into his head. He had placed his palm against the glass and it vanished.

But he didn't notice. He had only placed his palm on the glass out of instinct. Pure instinct. Edward gritted his teeth. What the hell was going on with this world? It wasn't completely normal. It had advanced technology, medicine, and zoos. But there was something else in this world. Something Edward couldn't quite understand.

And it looked an awful lot like alchemy.

Edward let the marble drop on to his bed. It fell at the same rate. Edward picked it up and set it aside, flicking a spider away from it.

Several days later, Edward left his cupboard to be greeted be a horrible stench. He crinkled his nose, wondering what died and rotted in a matter of half an hour. Locating the reek in the sink, which was bubbling with gray water and a mass of big clothing, Edward was no less satisfied.

"Seems like your cooking got worse." Edward commented.

Petunia, who stood next to him, scowled. "Don't be stupid." Her eyes glinted. "It's your new uniform."

Edward shoved his hand deep into his pocket.

"Do all schools…" in this world. He paused. No, he shouldn't say that. "…in this region of yours have a policy for ugly uniforms?"

She became tart. The mere inquiry had set her into an even worse mood. Edward grinned slyly. Secrets began to peer through half-opened doors. He only had to lure them out, one by one. He stepped back from the sink and pried into her eyes again.

"It'll dry soon, once I finish dyeing it."

"Besides, I doubt it would fit me." Edward said. Dudley was several thousand times fatter than short, lean Edward. Short… Edward had called himself short. He screamed inwardly.

"You can stitch up one of the sleeves if you want to." She avoided looking at his missing appendage.

"That's rude, asking a one-armed kid to sew his own clothing." Edward retorted.

Petunia's cheeks turned bright red.

"You are awfully mouthy today." She hissed.

Danger levels: rising. Edward's ability to care about what this walking effigy had to say: decreasing dramatically.

"So that's it, isn't it?" Edward said.

Aunt Petunia narrowed her eyes.

"You have something against me. Something that makes you want to hate me. You don't really hate me, at least, you haven't always hated me. Something, like, say, jealous has turned you into this monster of a human." Edward snapped. He could feel the blood pressure in his head rising. "So you take it out on me."

Petunia opened her mouth to admonish him.

"Or are you not prepared to face the truth? You live in your own private bubble. Other people's feelings aren't important to you, are they? So long as you look good, everything's perfect. Who cares if you emotional scar a kid for his entire life? _I had people like you._" Edward gave her a pointed glare. Before he could continue on, his head snapped to the side.

He had seen it coming. He had seen the blur of an arm swing towards his cheek. He had seen her intent to slap him. Edward began to react, shooting signals down his body and into his arm.

Problem was, his arm wasn't there. The metal was gone, leaving an empty phantom. His head was facing the other way, his cheek burning lightly. Still, nothing compared to an actual fight.

He had to remind himself that this was a scrawny, sheltered, terrified woman. He couldn't beat her up. He couldn't teach her the listen that itched to escape his mouth. He had to wait until he had both arms and legs, at the very least.

"You will _never _speak to me like that again, do you understand?" Petunia spat. "I took you in after your parents died. Your mother was my sister! You cannot disrespect me."

She had added a potent dosage of venom into "your mother". Edward's own mother had come into his head. Not the mutilated nightmare that he had made, but the one who smiled at his little alchemic tricks. The mother with the gentle voice. Mother who got sick…

Edward's eyes burned with tears.

"What did you say about my mother?"

Petunia appeared conflicted. She didn't know what to say, or even what to think. She knew Lily Potter. She did not know Edward's mother. They were nothing alike, Edward thought. _They couldn't be._

Edward's fingers curled into a fist.

"You're mother got everything. I got nothing." Petunia said, more quietly. She didn't look at his hand.

"You're jealous of my mother? And that gives you a right to carry these emotions on to me?"

"You—You," Petunia began, but stopped.

"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?" Vernon's voice exploded into the room.

Edward's fist only tightened instead of released. He placed it on the counter, next to the puddle of clothing and gray matter. Vernon's plumy form stepped into the kitchen. His beady eyes went from Petunia to Edward. Edward gave him a look of terror and destruction.

"Nothing." Petunia said, to Edward's surprise.

Edward's fist weakened. He looked at Petunia in surprise, his lips parting to say something.

"You know children." Petunia continued, pinching Edward's neck and pushing away from the sink. "But they know their place, don't they?"

Edward didn't respond. What he wanted to say disappeared from his mind when he looked at the frightened confusion lining Vernon's face. It was well worth it. These people were no villains, no homunculi. Just people.

"If you'll excuse me…" Edward said, shouldering past them.

Luckily, Vernon was far too confused to react.

* * *

_"That boy, Harry, he doesn't use Alchemy." Hawkeye said._

_Roy exchanged a glance with her._

_"What he uses seems to be a lot more powerful than Alchemy." He said. "Think it could be useful?"_

_She did not respond. Her hands were clasped firmly behind her back. Before each new flare of power, Harry would whisper something under his breath, hardly moving his arms. Something wasn't quite right. And the Alchemy looked like nothing she had ever seen before. It was a little more electric._

* * *

At dinner:

"Do they teach you how to hit properly?" Edward asked of Dudley's new school. Dudley held the stick in his hand. His face was dull. "It would do you good, rather than relying on a petty stick."

Vernon shot him a look.

Edward smirked back. He was winning, slowly but surely.

Dudley made the mistake of trying to thwack him with said stick. He hit the wrong side and Edward blocked it with ease, hardly looking up. His tense muscles flexed. Dudley frowned.

"Mum, dad? Why's does he have muscle?" he whined.

Edward began to respond but Petunia rolled over his comment like a steam roller. "That's because he's too dull to use his brain so he uses his body. Unlike you, Dudleykins." Petunia said lovingly.

Edward felt a volcano erupt inside of him. That was a sheer lie. It should win an award from how ironic and far from the truth it was. That was a lot of irony, Petunia! Your blood is going to get real healthy that way!

And then the letter arrived.

Edward stood to get it after a brief quarrel between the family. Sighing, he marched towards the door. The letter said:

"_Mr. E. Elric_

_The Cupboard_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey"_

A letter to him. A letter to exactly him, to _only _him. A light of hope ignited in Edward's heart. He couldn't stop himself from smiling. Maybe Alphonse had found him and had written to him. It was a little odd, but it was just like his brother to be overly polite. Or maybe it was Riza, or Winry, or even Roy—as odd as that would be. But Edward's hopes were crushed when he found the seal. A letter H. Who did he know that had H? Hawkeye? Why would she use a fancy red seal? And why would she be the one writing to him?

Maybe it was meant for the boy who lived here before. Potter, was it? Edward had trouble recollecting the name. He dug his finger under the letter, using the wall for support.

"Edward, what's taking you so long?" came the porky call from the kitchen.

Edward didn't respond. Petunia muttered something about an Aunt Marge.

Edward managed to slip the paper out of the letter.

"MUM HE'S OPENING THE LETTER!" Dudley screamed.

Vernon went to the doorway, where Edward was reading what was possibly the most confusing letter he had ever seen in his life. He could make sense of complicated nonsense scribbled over the paper. And it was inviting him to a school? Edward hadn't seen one of those in years. Unless he counted his teacher… But that was different. Very different. A wave of cold fear past over him at the thought of the powerful master.

A pudgy hand snatched the letter out of Edward's grasp. Edward turned. Vernon's eyes bulged and Petunia looked like she might faint at any moment. Edward stared, his gaze turning icy.

"Give it back." he whispered.

"No, none of this nonsense in this house!" Vernon bellowed.

"Give it back." Edward said, louder.

"No, not this—I remember it being," Petunia faltered, her face contorted into a look of agony.

Dudley scrambled for it, wanting to get a look at the letter.

Edward's blood boiled.

They looked like filthy swine fighting over an apple. And Edward had quite enough of it.

"Give the letter back to me, _now._" He said dangerously.

The three paused, looking at Edward. Their expressions changed from anger, to terror, to amusement, to hatred, and then back to terror.

Edward's hand was glowing crimson. He didn't notice.

"It was wrongly addressed to you." Vernon blatantly lied.

"It was pretty specific to be wrong." Edward said.

Then, Vernon knew better than to put him in trouble. Edward slammed his hand against the floor, causing the ground to rumble. Dudley squealed in terror and Petunia stepped back, confusion firmly planted into her face.

Vernon stumbled, right into the nest of splintered, twisted wood. He grunted, waving the letter of his head. A vine of rope, collected from the rest of it and the carbon therein hardened into a diamond-like structure, shot out of the ground and twisted around Vernon's arm. Edward snatched it back up.

Huh, one-armed Alchemy, huh? Edward thought with a tinge of pride, holding his letter. A defiant gleam lit his eyes.

A gleam a Dark Lord would have.


	3. Avenue, Shops, Fortify

"I can't keep this money. It doesn't belong to me."

"I can't use a wand. I'm not a wizard. I use _alchemy!_"

"I do NOT need a cauldron. I can use alchemy."

"I can't ride a broomstick anyway, let's pass by this building."

"I CANNOT USE OWLS. WE DO NOT GET ALONG."

"These robes, I suppose I can use them."

Edward Elric, with a cauldron, a new wand, plenty of money jingling in his pockets, and no broomstick, stood in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He held his arm out, letting the witch buzz around him. He seemed to have a permanently annoyed expression pressed into his face. The witch lifted Edward's braid to adjust the collar.

Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had gone off to the Leaky Cauldron for something or other. Edward didn't know. He tried not to stare at all the novel things surrounding him, but even a boy who had seen the Gates had to take a look here and there, right?

After Edward had quite inappropriately smothered Vernon with wood, Hagrid had been sent to him. Edward was taken aback by the large man. He was like a gentler, hairier version of Armstrong. (At that point Edward breathed a sigh of tenuous relief. He missed his home and Armstrong's grandness, but a break was good every once in a while too). And after that he had taken him to Gringrotts and showed him the vault that Edward was sure did not belong to him. He felt like a dirty thief. But he couldn't very well explain that he was not the boy they thought he was. He had to go along with it. At least when they traded back, Edward thought, the boy would be considerably richer.

Not that currency in this world made much sense.

Then Hagrid had taken him to the wand shop. He was fitted to a wand that was odd for some reason. Edward didn't remember. He was too busy protesting that he didn't need it. When he was asked to demonstrate, his alchemy faltered. Maybe it worked only when levels of distress were extraordinarily high?

And the broomsticks they didn't even bother with. Edward thought it was silly. And he wouldn't be able to perch on one anyway.

The owls he didn't take either. He said he would use an owl from the school. The real reason, which he hid from Hagrid who had put on a puppy-dog pout, was that he had no one to send a letter to. He doubted an owl of all animals could fly across worlds.

But if it did, was it worth the risk? No matter, Edward thought. He was posing as someone else. For the time being.

And now Edward had chosen to take up his robes last. He was being fitted next to another boy who was a good few inches taller than he was. Edward adjusted his arm so that the witch could dab her wand at his elbow.

"Quite little for your age, aren't you?" Hagrid had said only a moment before. Edward had given him a look so dark and angry that he appeared extremely apologetic. Edward felt bad, suddenly.

As the thoughts raced around in his head, the boy next to him turned his smooth, pale face. "Hogwarts, too, I suspect?"

Edward nodded mutely. He was suddenly very grateful to be covered in dark robes. If he had to hear "Poor boy!" or "Isn't he the boy who lived?" or "Sacrificed his arm and leg for us!" or anything of the sort one more time he feared he would destroy Diagon Alley.

The boy didn't seem much interested in that either.

The witch went to the other sleeve, which now dangled uselessly, and with a swipe of her wand took it away.

Which, for that matter, should be _absolutely impossible. _Edward twitched. She couldn't take away from matter. Matter had to go somewhere. Did she teleport it? Did she crumple the atoms up and destroy them? Matter couldn't be destroyed, but certainly it wasn't there anymore. What made magic work, there, anyway? Did it abide by different laws of physics? Did it take something inherent? Were these people gods? Edward itched for answers. Once he got to the school he would find them. Even if that meant living in the library and eating with a book under his nose.

He had already prodded Hagrid with plenty of questions. Hagrid mumbled most of his responses and laughed at other questions. Now all Edward knew were the very basics of the world's structure. There were wizards, witches, squids, muggers, and half-bloods. Or was it Squims and Muddles? Edward didn't remember.

Then, when Hagrid had tapped the wall, Edward asked him what sort of energy he placed in there to move the stones. Hagrid stared at him as if he was crazy. But, maybe the magic in this world wasn't all like alchemy as Edward had thought at first. It confused him and intrigued him all at once.

But he didn't have a brother to share the experience with.

Draco had finished describing the details of how wonderful his father was and how obedient his mother was.

"I'll have a broom, of course." He said with a half-grin.

Edward was strongly reminded of someone. A ghost drifted in his mind.

"Aren't you a first year?" Edward asked.

"Of course, but I'm a _Malfoy."_

Judging by his tone that name must mean something.

"So you can break the rules?" This kid was going to have it rough when he grew up, Edward thought. It struck him just how pleasant it was to relive childhood.

"It's for Quidditch. What a shame if I didn't get chosen to play." Draco said. He looked at him again. "Are _you _playing?"

The witch at his side lifted the robes, revealing the spindly prosthetic that connected Edward's hip to the ground. Draco saw. Edward shot the witch a thankful glance for her well-timed adjustment. He knew that Quidditch was a physical sport, probably used those brooms. It would be a test of strength. If he had his other arm and leg he could have won easily.

"Oh… I'm sorry." Draco said, looking away. His face was even paler than before. It was the first truly scary thing he had ever seen. He had no idea why it scared him, however.

"Don't be." Edward pulled his arm out of the sleeve and flexed his muscles. "I make up for it with the limbs I do have."

Draco paled again. He tried to make light of the situation. "Then I can't say that I'm not glad a little competition is out of the way. Though I challenge is always welcome."

So maybe there was a little ray of good in the boy.

The witch adjusted the ends of his robes.

"Do you know what house you'll be placed in?"

Luckily, Edward had managed to scrape up some answers about the school from Hagrid. He knew the houses now and their general attributes.

"Maybe Ravenclaw. They seem fairly intelligent." Edward said. _Plus they'll know about the world. They could probably help me get back home._

"Better than Hufflepuff." Draco said with an insulting chuckle. "I'll be in Slytherin, of course. Where else would I be placed?"

'The bad guys' was it? Edward didn't think people could be bad from childhood. Something had to impel such evil, if it was to be called that. Even the most vile enemies he had encountered back home—a note of sadness sprung into his mind—they and their reasons. No one was born evil. Were they?

Hagrid passed by the windows. Draco shot him a repulsed glare.

"He's touring me around." Edward said at once.

Had Armstrong seen that, he would have swooped in. His shirt would have shattered, his muscles gleaming. He would have said that in their noble lineage _no one _would tolerate such an unpleasant look!

Oh god did he miss home.

"And your parents?" Draco said.

_Well one's somewhere in the world now and the other I tried to bring back to life. _Edward told the truth of this world. Draco apologized, but nowhere near as sincerely as he had when he had seen the lack of a leg. A body part was more important than a living person? Edward began to dislike Draco. Someone had sowed a seed of resentment in him.

Then Draco began all sorts of nonsense about purebloods and mudbloods and Edward couldn't care less about the hierarchy of this world unless it brought him closer to an answer. And it didn't. Once his robes were done he left, raising his hand in an offhanded goodbye to the boy.

He walked out and saw Hagrid, his new robes fresh in his arms. He would put them in his trunk when he received a moment of peace. Which seemed to be anytime between never and infinity.

They walked through the streets. Edward wondered about many things. How much had he hurt the timeline? Would he ever get home? Why wouldn't people stop staring at him? Was his hair too long? Hagrid's was longer and unruly. At least his golden braid was trimmed and neat. And now where would he go? The Dursley residency wouldn't take him up, especially after what he had done to them. They would sooner adopt a lump of garbage.

The two were stopped suddenly by an elderly witch with drooping roads. She looked first at his forehead, then down at his missing arm.

"Oh, oh, by Merlin's beard it's him! The boy who lived! Allow me a touch of your hand, boy, something for an old woman." She pleaded.

Edward stared at her. She was taller than he was and crooning over him. Her eyes twinkled the stones at the bottom of a river. He stared uneasily, his face flushing.

"Now, miss, I don't think you should. I'm just a kid like anyone else."

Her eyes widened.

"Now you don't sound British at all. Wherever did you live after your parents… they…"

Edward looked at Hagrid for help. Hagrid bristled like a feisty old tom, puffing his chest out. He stepped forwards, grabbing Edward by the shoulder and steering him away.

"Sorry, ma'am, but we must be on our way. Ye can see 'im later if ye want. Not done savin' the world, he is."

Edward thanked him under his breath.

"Ye'll have the get used to it, boy." Hagrid said somberly.

Going from a young state alchemist to a martyr. What a life.

* * *

_"For Alchemy to work, something of equal value must be lost in exchange for something else." Alphonse Elric explained quietly. _

_To Harry, this was a brand new idea. For Magic you had to have __the right spells and magic. This seemed infinitely more complicated. And quite a bit more logical as well. _

_"So Transfiguration wouldn't work here, would it?"_

_Alphonse's metal eyes bore into his. "What do you mean?"_

_"Turning a human into a cat or some other animal." Harry said. For a while he had jumped around the topic of him not being from this world. Now he had no choice. Alphonse, his_ older_ brother, pried it out of him anyway. _

_"No, that's impossible. Is it possible where you're from?"_

_Harry nodded. _

_"Is there a connection you think? Can Transfiguration go wrong?"_

_"Of course you can. You can die if you do it wrong."_

_"Could you make a chimera?"_

_"Maybe." Harry shrugged. Hermione would have enjoyed this place so much more than he did. He had to be the hero all over again. Couldn't he have died in peace?_

* * *

"Nine and three quarters? NINE AND THREE QUARTERS? WHERE THE HELL COULD THAT BE?" Edward rounded around the platforms, right between nine and ten. Vernon grinned at them.

He had to stay in that dreadful house. He stayed in his room the entire time. He ate what Petunia slipped under the door for him. But now he had to a chance to leave and to leave was impossible! He may as well have tried to traverse a Möbius Strip with better luck.

And that was the first and last time he met the Weasley family.


	4. Human Body

_Some events are out of order, I am well aware of that. It's for a purpose._

* * *

The train cut through the rolling landscapes of forested Scotland. Clouds drifted past lazily in the clear blue sky, trailing behind them wisps of smaller clouds and the last breaths of summer. Grass the color of emerald sprung up on either side of the enchanted railroad, turning to any viewer inside into a blob of greens and browns.

Edward sat and watched the spectacle pass, resting his chin on his good palm and jostling inside his carriage. He had to admit that trains of the magic world were much more temperate than anything he'd known. Or maybe that was due to the lack of a certain large, mustached man to flex his biceps with uncomfortable stretching sounds. Either was, Edward found himself able to relax and lean back, propping his leg up on his trunk, and to place a book in his lap. He leafed through the pages, attempting to absorb all the knowledge it had to offer.

He should really have known better.

The doors slid open and twin faces appeared, grinning at him. The boys clotted at the entrance were of the same redheaded family that had helped Edward on to the platform. Now Edward suspected he owed them a favor. He set aside his book and sat up, watching them.

"You're the boy who hew helped on to the platform." One of them, Fred, said.

"And you're also the boy who lived. _The _boy-who-lived." George continued.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"You knew we couldn't pass up an opportunity so good."

"Is there something you want from me?" Edward interrupted.

"No, we simply wanted to affirm the rumors that you are the boy who lived." Fred said.

Edward nodded. No use lying now.

"And that you're missing a limb or two." George added.

Edward shifted so that the missing sleeve was visible. Normally he would have told them to get out and to not bother him, but something about the two boys charmed him. Their lankiness and freckled faces, the wicked smiles and the undeniable desire to hear laughter: those all felt very welcome. Edward didn't have time for pranks or jokes in his _other _life.

"Ah so it's true." Fred nodded. "Maybe we could use you to help us at some point."

"If you're willing."

"You want to use my missing parts as a joke?" Edward asked. "What could you do with that?"

Fred frowned. George shrugged. "Well, we don't know yet. We wanted to get your permission in advance. Surely we can get some good ideas out of it. At least, unless they decide to fix you up and have your arm and leg regrown."

Edward was taken aback. He stared at them, keeping his leg planted on the ground. As if that would make him more planted and immovable in his opinions and ideas. He nodded for them to continue.

"Sometimes they can do that." Fred said.

"Heard it's terribly uncomfortable though."

"And painful."

"Agonizing."

"But it might not work if it's a curse and they don't know how to lift it."

"Dumbledore might know. He's insane but a bloody genius."

"An insane genius."

Edward watched them go back and forth, conjecturing on various ways to regrow Edward and how that could be to their disadvantage. After a moment more they bade Edward farewell and went to raise hell elsewhere. Their feet clicked down the train. Conversation bubbled around Edward and slid into the room. The doors were shut once they twins finally left, leaving Edward alone to consider his thoughts.

His peace lasted for an even shorter time then. The doors swung open again and a small girl, no older than he was, stood before him. Next to her a large, horrified boy stood.

"Have you seen a toad anywhere?" The girl asked.

"His name's Trevor and he hopped away." The boy added.

Edward stood heavily, adjusting the prothetic.

"I haven't, but it seems like you really miss that toad?"

"No but my grandmother gave it to me and she —"

Edward shook his head and limped towards he doors. He bent down and looked down the hallway. The trims of robes swept by, followed by ripples of laughter or the occasional accusation. No toad, though. Edward's long braid slipped over his shoulder as he looked, catching sunlight and looking like gold.

The boy gasped.

Edward turned back towards him.

"You're Edward Elric!" He said, pointing.

"I know who I am." Edward said, already annoyed of publicity.

"My grandmother told me stories about you! How you bravely defeated You Know Who as a baby and how your hair was like gold and how you lost an arm and a leg."

"Yes, I guess that's me."

The girl had a very tart expression on her face. Edward wondered what she wanted. He cleared he throat.

"You know who I am, so what are your names? Tell me as we go looking for your toad." Edward began to limp down the hallway, his hips aching from the bad quality of the prosthetic. It felt like two tooth picks and a rubber band at times. If the wizards and witches at Hogwarts could not fix him, could they at least give him a better fake leg? He had already forgotten the weight and prowess he once possessed wearing Winry's machinery.

The girl bustled forwards, holding out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger." He shook her hand. She towered over him by a few good centimeters, and seemed amused by the fact. "And this is Neville Longbottom." She added, nodding at the boy who appeared even smaller than before.

She gave him a smile, then. "Thank you for helping us, Edward."

Edward shrugged.

Hermione's cloud of curled, frizzy brown hair bounced as she walked, which seemed to be in competition with Edward. Her eyes were quick, intelligent. He saw that it would be better to befriend her, and quickly, too.

After they visited Prefects from Ravenclaw and found Neville's toad, Hermione decided to move into Edward's compartment. Edward welcomed them, happy to have company, but not without remorse. There goes any time he had to think.

Hermione sat opposite Edward and pulled out a book, reading it furiously. Neville had claimed to have found friends in one of the compartments and wanted to talk with them. Edward, smilingly, encouraged him to go out and shed his fear. No good could come from cowering.

At that, Neville's features lit up. Edward's heroic radiance infected him and swelled in his heart. He agreed and went off. When Edward went to purchase something to eat, his young boy stomach growling in protest, he caught sight of a happy, laughing Neville. He gave him a firm nod and returned to the room. He slid the door shut and tossed one of the chocolate frogs to Hermione.

So many things to choose from… Chocolate was familiar, at least.

Edward sat back down. Hermione stared at the glistening wrapper resting in her lap, just below her book. She set a ribbon inside of it and snapped it shut. She appeared speechless. Edward was already halfway through his, munching noisily.

"You didn't have to." Hermione said.

"I did now eat it." Edward snapped. "If you don't like it I can get you something else."

"No, no, it's fine." Hermione said with a thankful glance and began to eat it. "Though I don't think my parents would approve. If they saw me have this much chocolate, that is. They're dentists." She added, seeing Edward's note of confusion.

Edward nodded. "Oh, I see." He finished the first and went on to a crumbly looking pastry.

"Are you really the boy who lived? The Edward Elric?" Hermione asked. Edward nodded again. "I've read about you in books before. Though the facts seem inconsistent sometimes." She paused with a frown, then hesitated.

"Don't worry about it. Propaganda about a single person is rarely truthful." Edward said. _Youngest boy to become a State Alchemist… To attempt human transmutation… _He knew it all too well.

Hermione gave him a brutally insulted look. How dare he say that something in a book was wrong. Books can't be wrong. They had to be edited and checked and they _had to be right_. Her glare conveyed that message easily enough.

"You read a lot?" Edward asked.

She nodded, her hair bouncing. She reached for one side and tucked it behind her ear unsuccessfully. "I've read all the books we will need to read this course several times, so I could have them memorized."

"I've skimmed them." Edward said. "The Potions textbook I found was pretty interesting."

She took a greater liking to him then.

"Come to think, I read an awful lot too. I've fallen asleep reading so many times. Al—my uncle had to wake me up several times because I let the light on for too long." He grinned. "Good times."

Her eyes went towards his trunk. "Did you bring other books with you?"

"A few," Edward admitted, "Some that I know could not be found in the library at Hogwarts, which is where you'll be living I assume."

She blushed. Her eyes went to the trunk again.

"Borrow them if you want."

"Really?" She lit up.

"Yeah." Edward said.

She leaned back and returned to her book. As she began to read, her fingers trembling as they flipped through the pages, he spoke over the cover of the book. Edward had gone back to a little notebook he kept in his pocket at all time and had purchased recently. The ink was magicked so it wouldn't smudge. A fantastic little invention.

"What you did was very nice. You would think celebrities wouldn't be so kind."

"I was just doing what's right." Edward responded.

That stopped the conversation, gently. Edward returned to the thick leather notebook. He had written down as much alchemy as he could remember into its scrawny pages. He had to before the knowledge slipped away or decayed. There was too much to lose. And, on the inside of the front cover in youthful, large handwriting he had written: _Don't forget 3 Oct. 10. _

A reminder. A reminder to keep forever.

"Also," Hermione said, "I didn't expect him to be so small."

Edward's expression darkened and he rounded on her.

"So small?" He huffed, frowning deeply. "I don't know what's small to a little girl but it isn't me. So I DON'T drink my milk so I'm a squirt, is that what you said?" He was yelling and she restrained laughter. "A PIP-SQUEAK. A SHRIMP? A KID?"

"I said none of those things." She giggled. He could only wave one arm and hobble over with intent. She could hold him off with a thwack from her book. She didn't know of the muscle mass below his robes, however.

At that moment, before Edward could finish his breath and continue the tirade, the doors rattled open again.

"Aw great who else wants me?" He snapped, turning. His cheeks burned.

Draco Malfoy paled. He stood before him, not so coolly. Behind him he had two body guards which really didn't scare Edward at all. If he had a good fight it would loosen up his bones, some good practice.

"Did _you _come to call me short too? Say I have a complex of sorts? Say I'm a shrimp? Wanna fight? I'll fight these body guards of yours they look like a challenge!" He hissed, tumbling over insults and threats and attempting to move towards them.

Draco stepped back.

"I just wanted to know if you really are Edward Elric." He explained, hands up, "I met you before. In the shop."

Edward stopped short, staring at him.

"Yeah that's right I do know you."

"And I'll have you know," Draco straightened up, regaining his suave and charm, all zero that he had. He ran his hand over his hair, pushing it back, and keeping his ferret-like face turned towards him, despite the obvious fear of the weird paining his eyes. "That a fight against me would do you no good."

"No it wouldn't. It's not a challenge enough to make me stronger. It would be a waste of time. I agree."

Draco restrained a laugh, like ice trying not to crack.

For a moment, Edward liked Draco. Just for that moment.

Then he hated him for his next comment.

"Well I'll talk to you when you aren't with a mudblood, affiliating with such—" He had no time to finish his response because Edward had slammed him against the wall. Crabbe and Goyle stupidly began to move into action. Sluggishly they paced towards him.

Draco had never been attacked. He was terrified. He didn't know he could be attacked. He was an indestructible, untouchable Malfoy of all people. His blood should have protected him, not spilled to the floor.

"What did you call her?" Edward hissed.

Draco was too choked with fear to respond.

Edward let go.

"Leave."

Draco stood.

Edward glared at him. His vision pierced Draco like icy daggers.

"I said leave." He repeated in the same frigid tones. Draco began to move away, taking the bozos with him and leaving Edward alone.

Hermione was again seized with shock.

"What did he say that made you so mad?"

"Don't worry about it. It was nothing. He won't call you that anymore." Edward said, lumbering back and plumping down. His hips still hurt. He hoped they would hurry up so he could get to the infirmary.

But first he would have to go through tedious task after task, getting sorted, sitting down, eating a marvelous feast with plump poultry glazed with sauce, surrounded by soft sides and pools of dipping sauce, and warm, fluffy bread. Edward's mouth watered. The chocolates had not been enough.

He pocketed the leather book and looked at Hermione, who was fixed with a strange look. She slowly turned towards him, jumping when she saw his golden eyes. She hadn't noticed the strange hue his irises had taken on. Matching his hair, almost. She must have looked at them for too long because he snapped away, returning to his frivolous writing and anxious foot-tapping.

"Do you know when we get there?" He asked.

"Soon." She said. "They'll tell us when we're close. It should be nighttime, I think."

Edward nodded.

She watched his pen scratch along the paper, his fingers white from pressing down on the pen. "What are you writing?" She asked, her curiosity eating her alive.

He shut the book and set it in his lap. Staring somewhere not on this planet, he said "Water thirty-five litres, carbon twenty kilograms, ammonia four litres, lime one point five kilograms, phosphorous eight hundred grams, salt two hundred fifty grams, saltpeter one hundred grams, sulfur eighty grams, fluorine seven point five grams, iron five grams, silicon three grams, and, in trace amount, fifteen other elements."

She stared at him. Was this a quiz and she didn't know the answer? What was he talking about? She knew the elements and recognized them, hearing them once in a class or seeing them within the sea of words roaming through a book page. They were familiar, all too familiar.

"The components of the human body." Edward said, noticing her dull expression. She snapped out of it, trying to remember them and catalogue them in her head. Edward grinned.

Even as she went over the numbers, asking him to repeat it, she felt a cold chill creep down her spine. Something about knowing the world inside of her was oddly unsettling, and from the way Edward spoke, it was as if he knew it all too well.


	5. Sorting

_Note: Breaking bread is extremely symbolic. Especially in writing. _

* * *

Edward didn't know what he was expecting when he was told he was visiting a magic school, but it was not Hogwarts. He had read through the books, devoured any page with words on the matter, and had asked around to the point he was a nuisance. Only Hermione, on the trip there, seemed as eager as he was. Several minutes before they arrived, an oder student muttered something about them being Ravenclaws.

Despite all his prying, when Edward stepped off the train, his jaw dropped open. He shut it with difficulty, and ate the scenery with his eyes. The castle was enormous, first of all, and secondly it was magnificent. The fields expanded in every direction. The towers shot upwards. Cool, smooth stone created most of the structure.

Then, it hit him like a wave crashing against pure white sand. The atmosphere. It felt as though he had stepped into a bubble of intense, powerful magic. Venerable wizards and witches crossed these paths. Phantoms drifted through the halls. Books as old as time lined the inner walls. Edward felt as though he had stepped into the room where Alchemy was invented, and saw the first transmutation circle ever drawn, the blood caked dark black and writing scrawled against the walls.

Hermione stood next to him, just as mystified.

The mystification continued as they rowed across the waters. Edward nodded at Hagrid with a gentle air of familiarity. Then, as they entered through the towering doors. And once more it doubled in the Great Hall. The floating lanterns bobbed like droplets of gold. The ceiling showed the night sky, dusted with stars. The tables stretched out towards them, holding the students. Teachers lined the front of it, welcoming the first years in their own way.

Edward surveyed them. A portly woman with what seemed to be plant residue stuck in her hair was smiling complacently at the students. Edward saw her first. He didn't have much time to look at the teachers, but caught a glimpse of a greasy older man and, of course, Dumbledore. His heart quivered with anticipation. This man could get him home. He knew that. The knowledge had burrowed deeply into his very self, expanding and blossoming into hope.

Before Edward could look at the rest of them, the Sorting Hat shot into the air and began to sing. He didn't listen to its musical words. Instead he sunk into thought. Up until now he hadn't thought much of the process of being sorted. What exactly did it look for? What if it didn't find anything? What if it found too much? Would a new house be made? Would the houses divide? Or would the student simply be expelled?

And what did each house merit? Edward grinned to himself. He doubted these teachers would be anywhere near as good as his. At least they wouldn't put him on an island and ask what All is One, One is All meant… Would they? Edward's heart sunk. They were wizards after all. They could survive it. Not easily, maybe some would die, some may be killed. Edward looked around at the other first years nervously.

One by one they were picked off before Edward. Some took several minutes to be placed, others the hat barely grazed before howling out an answer. Usually these students were placed in Slytherin.

And, finally, it came to be Edward's turn.

"Elric, Edward!"

The crowd hushed, watching him with wide eyes. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile from behind. She was behind him in the alphabet. He had no hopes of where to go based on her. She would have to join him, if they were to remain together. Worry touched his emotions softly. Edward walked forwards, limping slightly. His hip began to hurt again. The witch who called him up, McGonagall, noticed and muttered something to the Headmaster behind her. The crowd murmured in response, all making conjectures and most of them being dreadfully wrong. The ripple of noise died down slightly when Edward shot them a scalding look. He wanted to tell them that they should just shut up and ignore him. Leave him be.

Edward sat down on the chair and let the hat fall over him.

It all went dark.

A voice inside of his head began to speak. It echoed faintly through the chambers of his mind.

_My, my, you're not from around here, are you?_

No, I'm not. What a great observation. Maybe I should write it down. Edward thought back tartly. The crowd had already psyched up his nerves. He was hungry for a fight.

_It was a simply question, boy. And you obviously know that you aren't from here, but nobody else seems able to tell. Isn't that so? Why is that? I am an exception, of course. I am inside your head so I know very well that your blood did not come from this good earth. It contains no magic in it, but something else, something bloodier, something haunted._

Alchemy?

_Is that what you call it?_

I suppose if that's what you're referring to. Unless I have some other hidden power I don't know about yet.

_That is doubtful. You are well aware of your body. A little too aware, it seems._

Can you help me, then?

_I know only what you know, plus a little more wisdom and a few other items here and there—none of which hold much importance to you at this moment. _

Should I ask the Headmaster for help? He seems like he would know.

_Unless this, too, is beyond his knowledge._

Then what _can _you tell me? Edward frowned inwardly. Physically, his face remained the same. He stared at the darkness angrily.

_I am only a hat._

Fine, I could ask you later. Where will you put me?

_That is a good question, one I am bound to answer. And as I look through you, and as I try to reach the parts of your mind that even I cannot penetrate—how strange—I notice that you could fit in any house. Not all students can do this. Some could fit in one or two, only. But you have traits that fit in all. _

_You want to learn, your strong will to gather information and your curiosity eat you up. That is a Ravenclaw attribute if there ever was one. The house begs for you. You're sharp witted, but not naturally so, not completely. You work for your skill. Whereas, in one special case, this power you once had came at first like a talent. But you have made some bad mistakes in the past._

I have. Edward agreed. He wondered what the hat saw in his mind—

_I don't see, I feel. I feel scarred walls and I feel the last ghosts of the screams you had with one of your kin. I can feel the pain in your arm and leg, as if it was still freshly given. I can feel where it was eaten up. You weren't hurt by naturally circumstances._

Can you see my brother? The question came softly, barely audible even in his head. He held back tears easily.

_I see what he once was._

The hat paused, prodding the rest of Edward's mind like an interesting specimen.

_You could be in Hufflepuff, too. You are kind, a heart of gold as we like to say. You aren't nice and polite to manipulate others into getting what you want. You are a good friend. Those you love can trust you will all their heart. You'd give up your life to help another, easily, and you would have done so. I don't know what happened, exactly, but I can feel the emotions yelling in your head. I can feel your body shake with fear as you sacrificed yourself for one you loved._

And then I saw them.

_One other person in this school has seen them too._

Edward's heart fell.

What? WHO?

_You will find them eventually._

Listen, you hat.

_Threatening to stomp on me or eat me won't do anything._

I'll make you into a glove.

_I beg your pardon?_

Before Edward could continue, he became aware that the crowd was still watching him. He felt as though he had been sitting beneath the hat for several hours now. The students would starve before he was sorted, apparently.

_Gryffindor could do with a hero like you. Brave, pugnacious, ready to fight, but in your condition maybe staying out of danger would be best._

I was told that I could be fixed here.

_Why? You aren't broken._

You avoided my question.

_ I can't avoid what never was._

My insinuation of a question, then.

_Moreover, _the hat continued past this debate, _you could also belong in Slytherin. You have send death, you have made friends with it, you have known it. The darkness that stirs in your heart is not much, but it is enough to get you into that house. _

No. Edward thought.

_Not all Slytherins are evil._

What am I, an idiot? Of course they aren't. I met a few. That's not why I don't want to be in it.

_Hm… Yes, I see why now. But they could give you access to dark, powerful magic that could lead you home._

Edward froze.

Wait, that's not a bad idea.

_But part of you wants to stay in this world only a little bit longer, to enjoy it while you can, to run from your responsibilities. To become found. You are lost._

And being in Slytherin would be the quickest way home?

The hat made a grunt of agreement.

I don't know.

_Don't worry. It was never for you to decide. I am the Sorting Hat, after all. You're a young man with a quest. _

What if I never go home?

_I will make sure that doesn't happen. Ravenclaws will work with you to go home, they will find the answer, an honest answer, too. One that will most likely take you home whole. Hufflepuffs will help you cope with your loss, and maybe make you love being here. Gryffindor will give you courage to fight the trials here, maybe convince you that you belong here. You weren't put here by chance. Even you believe that. There is a reason you fell into this life. _

You keep telling me all these things, but why? You have an answer already so why tempt me with all these ideals? You won't sway me. I don't belong here.

Edward imagined that the hat smiled.

_I am only showing you what could be. _

Wait! Before you say which house I belong in, Edward said for he had a feeling the hat was about to do just that, can you give me at least a hint? Anything? Don't leave me alone.

A pause.

_The pieces fit, Edward. How quickly do you want them to be found?_

How much time do I have left?

_A Ravenclaw answers questions with questions. _

So I'm a Ravenclaw?

_Did I say that?_

No, but… Do I have any time left? Can you tell me that? I would want to gather what I could from this world if it gives me the chance.

The hat didn't respond to this.

And, then, for the first time in the history of Hogwarts, the house made a mistake. Not just a mistake, but a very grave mistake.

Edward went numb. He barely registered what the hat said. It was plucked off his head and he stood. His legs didn't hurt, so he hadn't been sitting for too long. For a moment, the hall was silent. Reluctant applause sounded on one side and the rose steadily. One house was cheering the loudest. The house with green in its emblem.

Across the room in the line of first years, Hermione looked crestfallen. Edward walked to the Slytherin table, his heart pounding. He sat down near quietly. Malfoy had yet to be sorted. The boy in line knew fear truly for the second time in his life, all in the same day.

Edward watched the rest of the first years being sorted with his blood still pounding in his head. Why was he here. He should be in Gryffindor. No no no no no no. Edward would have preferred Ravenclaw most of all. Alphonse could have done well in Hufflepuff. Dammit, why was he in Slytherin? They could help him home, sure. It was probably the gates' fault, sure. No no _no_.

Later: "Granger, Hermione!"

After a very, very short pause:

"RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table stood in a flurry of purple robes, hooting. Hermione walked over. Her smile was radiant. Her eyes glanced over at Edward who shot her a pleading look. She turned away. Their friendship could have died then, had an older Slytherin not given him a disappointed look. Edward's golden eyes flashed.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Edward perked up. He knew that name. It was the boy who lost his toad. The boy trundled over to the hat. It brushed against his hair and yelled.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Soon, Draco walked to the hat. The hat gave a nearly bored shout.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Draco walked over, greeted by applause. Even Edward smacked the table. He didn't have another hand to clap with and had to make do with what he had.

Draco sat next to Edward.

"Sorry about nearly choking you earlier." Edward said reluctantly. He may as well attempt to make friends while he was there. Or this would be an insufferable school year. That is, if he stayed long enough to experience the end of the year and social drama.

Draco looked at him. Their eyes met. Draco smiled, slowly, softly, shyly, then slyly.

"All's forgiven, I suppose. But you're in my domain now. Don't try it again."

Edward shrugged. He kind of liked the kid. He had confidence. Not the right kind, but still, some confidence.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Slytherin grew frigid. The redheaded boy walked up nervously to the chair. He shot a look at one of his friends that sat in Gryffindor. His brothers hollered for him. He ignored them promptly and sat down.

He sat down for quite some time.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Edward could tell by the distraught look that his heart had shattered. Hufflepuff, of course, cheered for him. The boys he sat with slapped his back and comforted him. Slytherin applauded sardonically, watching the broken boy move towards the yellow table as if he was on death's row, ready for the executioner's blade and not liking it one bit. Edward didn't. He stared. He had heard the boy earlier complain in worry about how he wouldn't be sorted into the proper house.

Fred and George were pale. Their hands were frozen. They stared at Ron, who was whimpering slightly, and turned away. Something happened that Edward didn't quite understand.

What he had thought of as only a placement, a temporary thing that suited the child's learning requirements, proved to be infinitely more. This was life. This was identity. Although these children didn't know who they were, at least not yet, the hat could pry deeply into their psyche. For most of them, anyway.

The uncharted regions of Edward's mine, the one that had gone up in flames so long ago, had held the turning point for the hat.

Dumbledore stood, said something that Edward didn't understand, and sat back down. Food appeared on the table. Edward ate hesitantly, feeling as if he was surrounded by vultures. He reached for a bowl of buttery, fluffy balls of bread. His hand knocked against another student's. He looked up, ready to see a burning look of contempt, but instead saw a young woman laughing apologetically.

"Sorry, Edward." She picked up one and handed it to him. Edward thanked her.

To test it out further, he noticed a plate of reddish jam. He looked at it and asked if someone would pass it to him. A pale hand reached for it and gave it to him. He thanked them and spooned a drop on to his bread. As he ate silently, watching those around him munching and chatting and accidentally spilling goblets of water or juice (the substance magically vanishing shortly after), his fear lessened.

_The food's good, too._


	6. One is All I

One Is All

Part I

_Dear Sirius Black,_

I don't know if you're alive or dead. It's hard to tell with the world turned on its head and warped out of shape. But I have to have someone to speak to, to tell about my life, to fill the empty holes that have popped up in my free time. That free time also gave me the opportunity to write and to learn, as there isn't much else to do here. I never really liked either. I have so much to tell you. I suppose I should begin where it started.

Which is a big task in and of itself. I hardly know how I ended up here. One moment I'm on the field in front of Hogwarts. The next I have a suit of armor for a brother and a heavy, black heart. I did what my brother, Alphonse, said I should do. I went to take the State Alchemist test.

I passed. And then I failed.

First, let me tell you what that test it. It's not like the OWLs or the NEWTs. It's far more serious, I believe. I went to a large, open arena and was told to use alchemy and demonstrate what I knew. It was like a dream how I got through to them, despite my age. I passed, using magic, of course. I retained all I knew from my seventeen year old body, contained in this eleven year old kid, now thirteen. The men and women there were very kind, though harsh. One woman, a tall, strong blonde named Riza Hawkeye, was surprised at my talents.

She asked what it was. It wasn't alchemy. They found out through events too much for a kid too understand. They striped me of the watch, they took my uniform, they threw me out with Alphonse. I skidded past the city and to a scientific faculty that tested me, questioned me. Riza came back with Roy Mustang, a man I didn't like much. She was kinder to me.

Eventually they found out what I used was magic, not alchemy. I preformed parlor tricks. I had been reduced to a magician. I pulled rabbits out of hats, I transfigured tables into small pigs, I levitated objects far away.

As I did this, my magic faded. Slowly my wand reverted back to a stick. I don't recall how I got a hold of it. Alphonse noticed, to, and he made a show of stopping the men from pushing me around like a zoo animal trained to preform certain tricks. We cut our ties with them and, well, we merged with society.

It hurts to say that. I go from defeating the Dark Lord to scrubbing a marble floor clean and wearing old-style kerchiefs to keep my bangs out of my eyes. I go from being part of the Golden Trio, the boy who lived with the angry red scar on his forehead, to the boy hanging laundry up to dry and keeping children from falling off terraces while they play.

You can imagine I had little time for fun.

Alphonse had more trouble finding work. He helped me sometimes, but he scared away paying customers. I went from house to house, doing meager task after meager task. Once I was told to scrub the butchery's floor clean.

In all the years I had seen killing curses and all the potions I had mixed, this is what made me sick. I hated bending on my knees and using a hard brush to remove the caked-on blood that lined the floor. I hated picking up strings used to hold up strips of meat and feet the gore binding them in tight film.

And I was so young.

I was a waif rushing through the streets, paying for a tiny home just outside of the city for Alphonse and I to sleep and eat in.

And that's what I'm doing now. Tomorrow we leave for his, or ours I suppose, hometown. It's called Resembool and it's a train ride away. I've saved up for a few months, shirking on clothes and food (luckily Alphonse doesn't have to eat or wear clothes; he is a suit of armor). Alphonse had picked on me for a while, trying to get me to go back home. There we could stay with a young woman he calls Winry. She could help us. We could stay there and either try to forget or figure out another way to get me home and get his body back.

I should tell you about that, too.

Apparently, from what Alphonse remembers, he and his older brother Edward had lost their mother. They preformed complicated alchemy to resurrect her. Magic and alchemy work similarly in that fashion. They failed. Edward lost an arm and a leg, and Alphonse lost his entire body. Edward grafted his soul into the armor and they desire to find the Philosopher's Stone to return to normal.

I told him, in return, about the Philosopher's Stone that was hid in the Hogwarts tower, under a three-headed dog named fluffy. I laughed. I laughed for so long and I felt so old. Maybe calloused fingertips and burning calves did that. Alphonse laughed too, but then felt sad. He felt so sorry for me that I had been torn away from my home.

"Don't worry," I said, "I barely remember it."

That triggered sorrow in me as well. I bowed my head, trying not to cry. All the faces I knew, all the places I'd been, and even all the spells I had studied to retain. All gone. All faded and eroded by time. I remember certain things and, when I try, I remember almost everything. Down to what the Sorting Hat told me when it slipped past my eyes that day so, so long ago.

I'm not saying the life I lead now is pitiful and unworthy of myself. In fact, working here has given me what has been called "character". I know now that nothing is free. Everything has a price of equal value. I need to work to make a living. I'm working now so I can afford that train ticket. So much money goes into simply living.

In the other life I was hardly an adult before I stopped.

That being said, I'm not saying this life is better. I'm grateful that I've had the experience in both. Now, to see where it gets me.

Alphonse is calling me over. He wants to know what I'm doing. When he sees the dim candle light and the pen in my hand, he'll walk away. He's far better than I deserve. We live in a small apartment that is a kitchen, bathroom, and other room. The kitchen and other room (where we sleep and rest) is separated by a cloudy partition. Alphonse often goes walking in the night, his armor clanking and his soft voice echoing in the chambers of metal.

It's odd living with a metal man. Sometimes I forget he's a person. Not like I put a glass of what on his shoulder or prop my legs up on his knee. But, sometimes, when I'm reading, I look over at Alphonse studying an alchemy book. He sits so still, his glove-hands clutching the book, tilting it so he looks like a podium. He doesn't move. I forget that he's real and a panic washes over me like a tide.

What if I'm alone? I ask myself. Sirius, please forgive me, but I'm not strong enough to live on my own. I'm like Mari.

I should tell you about her.

There are not many children my age who run around the city begging for a coin or two. A generous soul might tuck a few into their soft, dirty palms if there are some. I don't see them often. This is Central. It's clean. But not all the spots have been wiped spotless.

So when I walk around, a clear sign of my misfortune, people would sweep me up for work. Some are bad men, and I clear away from them. I've hardened. Would you be proud of me, Sirius? You see I've turned into a muggle. Writing that word is strange to. It belongs to a different world, a different me.

A few days ago I was walking around, looking for patrons. (Maybe that was bad word choice. I'm not very good at this yet). I saw a young, frazzled woman. I went to her. Sometimes Alphonse accompanies me. A symbol of power, of greatness. But today he was looking for leads and if he could find his and Edward's teacher. We became less brothers and more two unfortunates tossed together into the same life.

The frazzled woman had a broad, big face and small, watery eyes. She saw me and I asked if she wanted some work. I work for cheap. I only needed a little more to be able to leave. The tiny house Alphonse and I lived in was on rent. I could slip the last payment under the landlady's door and leave. Easy as that. No complex attachment. It was simply a vessel for that chapter of my life.

"Boy, please help." She said.

"What would you like?"

She then explained as she took me to her house. She lived in a large home. Her husband was a state alchemist. He went in because he was talented and because the woman, named Nana, had a "broken little sister". I didn't understand until we reached her home what she meant.

"I have important things I need to get done today." Nana said urgently. "Please, watching after Mari, just for a little bit."

She told me what to do. The next few hours were miserable, but I was payed very well. This is why we can leave tomorrow.

Mari was not "broken". But she was like nothing I had seen in the wizard world. For us, broken was a squib or a mudblood. To them, broken meant you can't move or speak. Mari could not do either, but her mind was clear. She had trouble forming words due to an ancient injury in her throat. Her legs were weak because, as she wrote to me on a slip of paper, her mother carried her everywhere.

Mari was bright and friendly. I had to feed her and clean the room, as well as the house, while Nana went on her chores. Mari watched my mop the floor and sweep up the dust, make the bed, prepare her food (I never thought living with the Dursleys would ever prove helpful), scrub her fingertips with a cut lemon so they didn't smell too bad, and wash her back and hair. She had long, beautiful brown locks.

I kept the paper slips she communicated with. I have them in a little bag I carry around with me. Inside of it there also is a pocket watch I had gripped when I woke up here two years ago. On the watch there were faded numbers and words. I can make out an "o" and an "f". The rest has been stolen by time.

One of the slips she said: _I am sorry you have to work for me. _

I then responded that it was no trouble. She asked where I went, I said to a small town not far from here. She smiled big because she knew Resembool. Had I heard of the Elric brothers? I said I was with one. She giggled, a gurgled, but endearing sound. I said did you know them? She affirmed that and said that when her sister married and moved into town, she was carried along.

Then she grew morose.

Here, I'll put that strip of paper in here so you can believe me. Sirius, I know you trust me, but I can barely trust my own eyes.

_So sad what happened to the older one. _

You can see there's no space between this line and what she replied with. We were so excited and curious. I stopped airing out the bedsheets to read eagerly what she had written me.

_Died in the fire. _

"Which fire?"

_I don't know. It was a rumor. Maybe you took his place?_

"That's what I thought, but how can that be possible."

She gave me one of her lopsided grins.

_Magic!_

I laughed.

We let the subject drop because it awoke too many sorrows. While I finished cleaning the house and cooking Nana and her husband a meal, she wrote me a sheet of tips on how to improve my writing. It was her gift to me. I hugged her gently, happy that even in my strange circumstances I could find a friend.

Nana came home soon. She thanked me a thousand times over for what I had done. She paid me very well. Her husband even thanked me. I left. I don't think I'll ever see them again. If I do, I would work for them gladly. If only to share those slips of papers and secret words with Mari again.

Now I've spoken of sad things, I should balance it out with something lighthearted. You weren't very dark until your last days, weren't you? When you slid behind the veil. This is why I write. So I can hold on to the grim hope that when I come back everything will be ok. That I can mess with time enough to extract the friends I've lost.

I want Remus Lupin back. I want Tonks, Fred, Dumbledore, even Snape back.

I want my godfather back. I want to have that promise of a good hope giving me positive thoughts about the summers ahead. When I didn't have to work three hours for a slice of bread. When I wasn't on my knees. When my elbows didn't hurt.

Snape's essays were bliss compared to this.

And I said I would say something light!

How about I talk about what we plan to do in Resembool?

Alphonse said that Winry is a very smart, likable, pretty young woman who could fix our problem. And an elderly woman there would know what to do. Alphonse would show me the lake he sat at when he was a boy of flesh and bone, the ashes of his house, and maybe his teacher if he could find her.

She's consumed his thoughts lately. I wonder about her.

I should sleep now, Alphonse is giving me his puppy-dog look. I'll write when we get to Resembool.

_Yours forever, godson,_

_Harry Potter_


End file.
